His chest rose, and his lips clamped together, a deep breath expelling from his nose. He placed a hand loosely on her hip. ‘Good night, Alessandra.’

She placed her lips to his cheek, breathing in his scent, the champagne and bourbon that played on his tongue, her skin delighting to feel his mouth brush against her own cheek, their faces moving in sync to kiss the opposite cheeks.

What would those still firmly clamped lips feel like against her own? she wondered, moving her mouth to press lightly against them and discover for herself.

He didn’t move, his breaths coming even deeper, his body as rigid as a board.

The fingers holding her hip tightened, a subtle movement that enticed her to press herself closer so all that separated them were the clothes they wore.

She felt the slightest of softening in his unyielding form, enough to embolden her further to slip her fingers beneath the collar of his shirt and gently graze his smooth, warm skin, her lips still chastely placed against his.

A guttural noise came from his throat, a groan that reverberated through her skin and seeped down low, right into her pelvis.

She scraped the nape of his neck with her nails, breathing him in more deeply, his masculine scent filling her senses in the most delicious way.

And then the statue came to life, his hand rising to clasp the back of her head in a firm, hard grip, his lips parting. Then he was kissing her, kissing her with a violence that made the pulsations deep in her core enflame and her heart beat like a thousand drums had been let loose within her.